


Buzzer Beater

by owlways_and_forever



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Basketball, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-12 08:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10486050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever
Summary: Killian was the star of the basketball team, until an injury dramatically alters things for him. Emma is a talented usher and a very enthusiastic fan. Will Killian find Emma’s exuberant cheering endearing, or will she get lost in the sea of fans?





	1. Prologue: The Fall

Killian was insanely nervous. More nervous than he had any reason to be, but it was senior night and the big rivalry game and he really didn’t want to let the team down. He knew wasn’t going to be starting the game – Graham was a senior after all - but Killian also knew that he would get plenty of playing time anyway, especially if Graham got into foul trouble the way he had been lately. Killian was only a sophomore but he had really come into his own as a shooting guard, with a .489 overall shooting average and a .518 from behind the arc. He was a rising star, with whispers of the Wooden Award floating here and there, in circles of people in the know. Killian tried not to pay much attention to such rumours as they only served to distract, but still, the could feel the pressure building. He made his way to the court for the final shoot around, just a few minutes before the anthem was sung and the lineups were announced.

   Killian always felt slightly ill at ease when the anthem played, it just made him miss home and made him almost wish that he could have had all this back in England. Mostly he missed his brother. Staying in England wouldn’t have helped that however, since Liam spent most of his days traveling the world with the Royal Navy. He kept promising to make it to one of Killian’s games but his breaks hadn’t aligned yet. Liam assured Killian that he watched every game on TV or listened on the wireless, but it wasn’t the same, and the two brothers hadn’t seen each other since Killian started school almost two years earlier. For some reason, as he listened to the anthem blaring on the court that night, Killian couldn’t stop thinking about Liam.

   Killian joined the rest of the team as they formed two lines, ready to introduce the starting five - #18 Will Scarlett from Detroit, Michigan, #30 Anton Maly from Mikulov, Czech Republic, #43 Victor Whale from De Soto, Texas, #8 Captain Graham Humbert from Waltham, Massachusetts, #12 Captain Phillip Fitzroy from Washington, D.C. As each of the starters was announced, they ran between the two lines, high fived the rest of the team, and chest bumped each other, smiles and excitement and blood pounding through their veins to the beat of the roaring crowd. Killian took his seat on the bench, knotting his fingers together as he prepared himself for tip off.

   The game did not start off well. Anton got two quick fouls under the basket for not keeping his feet firmly planted, something the center had a problem with in general, as he generally felt far more inclined to go for the steal. It didn’t help that the Tar Heels had a power forward who knew how to draw the foul like nobody else, and made sure he hit the basket every time to boot. By half, they were down fourteen points, and Killian had only played two minutes. Graham hadn’t gotten in foul trouble, but he also wasn’t playing his best, with only 6 points on the board. Still, Coach wanted to give him a chance, so Killian spent most of the first half sitting on the bench, watching in frustration. They all got a pretty stern talking to in the locker room at half, Coach’s own frustration seething. Four-star freshman David Nolan sat with his head in his hands, and Killian thought the poor kid might burst into tears. He was such a nice guy, a bit naïve and innocent, and Killian had his doubts as to whether or not David was cut out for such a high profile position.

   They began the second half with same starters, but it was only about two minutes before Coach got frustrated and told Killian to make his way to half to check in. Things lit up for Killian in the second half. Shot after shot when in, and he watched the numbers tick up next to his name – 3, 6, 22 points. He couldn’t seem to miss, every time, just fake forward, step back, shot, basket. Anton pulled down a defensive rebound and Killian seemed to know it was going to happen, he was already countering on offense - he was miles ahead of his defender. Anton threw the ball up the court and Killian caught it with no problem, dribbled the last few feet, and then launched himself into the air. The ball sank through the basket, and Killian’s hands closed around the rim, he could already hear the crowd reacting, roaring with excitement, and then…

   Another body slammed into him, and he felt his own body flying past the basket, but his left hand was still holding on, and he could feel the tendons in his wrist tearing. As he let go and fell, his arms went out instinctively, and he felt another searing pain as he landed on his hands. He suspected that he would have heard the bones in his hands shattering had his own gut-wrenching scream not torn through the air and filled his ears instead. Pain was spreading from his hand but it was almost too much for him to process, all he could do was grit his teeth and try with all his might not to scream as he felt the vibrations of every footstep of the staff surrounding him. The team trainer gently tried to pry Killian’s arm away from where he was cradling it to his chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Killian could hear a scuffle on the edge of the court, but he was beginning to feel faint and he couldn’t concentrate on the sound.

“That is my brother, you incompetent ingrate!” a voice bellowed, and Killian’s eyes found the man fighting to get past security. He had curly, sand-colored hair, and from Killian’s vantage point, he looked an awful lot like Liam.

Liam’s doppelganger pushed his way onto the court, shouldering through the security guards as if they concerned him about as much as a gnat, and knelt down next to Killian on the floor, taking his uninjured hand.

“Killian?” he said, trying to get Killian’s eyes to focus on him.

“Brother?” Killian replied, but he felt hazy, the pain clouding his mind. “You can’t be Liam, my brother is in Oman.”

“Killian, it’s me, I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes widened; Killian was absolutely astonished that his brother could have made the effort to surprise him by coming to a game.

“You’re here,” Killian sighed, as if the idea of having Liam by his side alleviated some of the pain he was feeling.

* * *

Emma watched #5 fall to the floor and immediately knew something was wrong. It looked gruesome, and the way Jones was lying on the floor, it had to be serious. He just wasn’t moving, he was lying completely still, as if all his muscles had clenched at once. Emma knew that feeling, she could remember it from when she broke her leg, it was what happened when you were in so much pain that you couldn’t even fathom moving. One of the nursing interns in the hall looked up at the TV and shook her head.

“Poor kid,” Mary Margaret sighed, her green eyes widening sadly.

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, turning to her friend. “It looks bad, but he’ll recover, probably still go on to have a fantastic NBA career with a model trophy wife and everything.” She sounded just a little too bitter and she knew it, her present relationship problems reflected all too clearly in her voice.

“Em,” Mary Margaret answered, her tone somewhere in between scolding and pitying. “It looked pretty bad. If the tendons are severed severely enough or if there’s nerve damage… basketball requires two hands, and if he doesn’t make a complete recovery, his career will be over.”

“It can’t really be that bad, can it?” Emma asked, but her stomach knotted uncomfortably. She really needed to stop visiting Mary Margaret in the Emergency Room, she hated seeing the gruesome injuries, but she just needed a break from her lab sometimes. Her boss, Albert Spencer, was a complete jerk, and more often than not, Emma felt the need to duck out of the lab for a few minutes in order to maintain her cool.

“Hey Em, I don’t mean to kick you out, but they just radioed that they’re going to bring the guy over here, so unless you want to see a compound fracture, you’ve got about fifteen minutes to get back to your lab.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emma answered. “I’m just gonna steal some coffee from you guys first, and then I’ll go back to gene splicing.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Mary Margaret replied distractedly, her fingers toying with the hem of her pink scrubs.

“You want me to bring you some back?” Emma offered, giving her friend a curious look.

“Uh, yes, thank you,” she nodded. “Just half a cup, please.”

By the time Emma came back with the coffee, the emergency room was bustling, nurses and doctors moving at top speed as they prepared for the imminent arrival of the school’s star basketball player (well, one of them). When they wheeled him in (Emma had, of course, hung out just around the corner to see) Emma couldn’t help but notice how blue his eyes were, and she wondered if the pain was accentuating it, like a fever, or if they always looked that way.


	2. The Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the next installment! I don't really have any notes this week, so I'll see you all next Monday for the next chapter!

_\--- 2 1/2 years later ---_

Emma toyed with the credentials that hung around her neck, nervous about her first day as a graduate usher. She hadn’t been a line monitor when she was an undergraduate student, but as a grad student you had to pay for tickets, and she simply didn’t have that kind of money. It seemed like a good deal though, showing up two hours before the game and working until just before tip, and as a reward, getting to stand front row for free. But she was anxious, mostly that she wouldn’t be good at her job, but also that none of the other ushers would like her. Emma had tried to convince Mary Margaret to do it with her, but she insisted that nursing school was too time intensive, and she couldn’t handle the additional commitment. Emma had scoffed at that, as if med school was any less intense, but ultimately she let her friend’s comment slide. Consequently, however, Emma did not know any of the other ushers, and the idea made her nervous, she wasn’t the best at making friends.

She had been assigned a position inside, working in the corner, directing students to one of their two sections, managing the general admissions crowd, and stopping people from trying to go on the court. It seemed like a lot of responsibility for a new usher, though at least she had one other woman in her area to help her if she needed it. And she could always go to one of the head ushers if she really got into a jam – Neal, in particular, seemed intriguing.

“So, what do you study?” the woman Emma had been assigned to work with said, startling her out of her anxious reverie.

“Oh, um, I’m in the med school,” Emma answered, fingers still toying with her credentials, and she avoided making eye contact with the tall, leggy brunette.

“Yeah, I know, but what is it that you actually study there?” she rolled her eyes, her hands flying to her hips. “What kind of doctor do you want to be?”

“I don’t,” Emma replied, eyes still firmly set on the door. “I want to do research, not practice on patients. Genetic stuff though. I worked in a lab as an undergraduate, doing splicing. And what do you mean you know?”

“Oh, I looked everyone up on Facebook before today,” she laughed, tossing her long hair, a streak of red in in catching Emma’s eye. “I had to see if any of the guys were hot, and which of the girls would be competition.”

Emma eyed the woman up and down and thought personally that she could land anybody she wanted to. She was tall and thin, with long black hair and an air of confidence that emanated from her in waves.

“I’m Ruby,” she said, extending a hand to shake with a winning smile. “And you’re Emma, of course.”

Emma frowned slightly, uncomfortable with how much Ruby already seemed to know about her, but she accepted the show of friendship anyway. They passed the two hours of work chattering good naturedly, though Ruby did most of the talking, and getting to know each other. Ruby was studying in the business school, hoping to prepare to take over her grandmother’s inn and restaurant, and Emma shared a few details of her life as an orphan. When it came time to take their spots for the game to start and take their spots, Emma decided to stick with Ruby.

The visiting team was announced with the usual amount of taunting, and then the crowd geared up to hear the home team, an excited buzz humming through the stadium. The starting lineup had become an issue of considerable intrigue since the announcement during the offseason that former star Killian Jones would be returning as a graduate student for his last year of eligibility. Many felt that the announcement meant that he was back to his old form, and were enthusiastically awaiting his return, but Mary Margaret had implied that the gossip among the nursing students said that he hadn’t fully healed. Nevertheless, the crowd was waiting on bated breath to see who would be announced as the starters for the first game of the year. Without Jones, many felt that the team would be in trouble, having had a poor recruiting season after their abysmal performance in the NCAA tournament in March. They had managed to land one five-star recruit, a kid from California who was top 5 in his class and had committed early the previous year, and who had been given the nickname “Merlin” because of his talent. They had gotten one other recruit, but he wasn’t top 50, and many expected he wouldn’t see the court this season.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the starting lineup for your Blue Devils!” the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium. “The six foot four freshman from San Francisco, California, number 0 – Tamrat Elah!”

“Merlin! Merlin! MERLIN!” the crowd chanted as the small point guard ran forward, high fiving his teammates and looking for all the world like he was floating on cloud nine.

“The six eleven sophomore from DeSoto, Texas, number 26 – Lance Prince!”

“Whoooo, go Lancelot!” Ruby cheered, using the center’s nickname.

“The six foot eight senior from Warsaw, Indiana, number 2 – Arthur Kardos!” the announcer continued, and the crowd had a palpable mixed reaction.

Kardos was the newest villain, known for being arrogant and aggressive, with no problem playing dirty. But he was handsome and charming when he wanted to be, so there were many who still loved him.

“The six foot nine senior and captain from Bar Harbor, Maine, number 15 – David Nolan!”

The crowd roared once more, as David Nolan was perhaps the most popular player on the team. Besides being quite skilled, Nolan was also good looking and more humble than someone of his talent had any call to be. According to those who knew him, he was the sweetest person, and it had been no surprise to anyone that he had insistently quashed any rumours of leaving early for the NBA, despite the near guarantee that he would have been an early first round pick just about any year. There was some speculation about whether or not he would go to the NBA at all, even after he graduated, though Emma found that hard to believe.

“Lastly, please welcome back the six foot seven graduate student from Leicester, England, number 5 – Killian Jones!”

If Emma thought the crowd had erupted for Nolan, then the fervor when Jones had been announced was positively deafening. The fans cheered more enthusiastically than she had ever heard them do before. It was hard not to feel swept up in it, and Emma felt the urge to scream and shout herself as she watched him jog out to his teammates and bump chests with them.

“God, he’s so hot,” Ruby practically drooled.

“You think the entire team is hot,” Emma answered, rolling her eyes and laughing.

“Yeah, but he’s got the accent as an added bonus,” Ruby reasoned, nudging Emma playfully with her shoulder. “Come on, admit it, you think he’s hot too.”

“It must be lonely,” Emma answered suddenly, her lips drawing down in a slight frown as her mind suddenly filled with an image of Killian all alone, remembering his bright blue eyes and imagining how loneliness would play in them. “I mean, playing in a foreign country,” she continued, in answer to Ruby’s confused and doubtful expression. “His family probably doesn’t get to see him much, and it must be weird to listen to someone else’s anthem instead of your own.”

“We should do something for him!” Ruby said, clapping her hands excitedly and bounding up and down.

“Like what?” Emma answered, allowing her attention to drift slightly from the game.

“I don’t…” Ruby began, but then she gasped, resuming her jumping. “We could get a British flag! And hold it up whenever he plays! Then he could see someone representing him and his home.”

“That’s actually not a terrible idea,” Emma admitted, considering. For some reason, she very much wanted him to know that there was someone out there who appreciated him and his background, what he had given up to be here. “Okay, lets do it.”

“Yes!” Ruby exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air triumphantly. “Ooh look, he’s going to score!”

Killian Jones did not score, however, and in missing the shot, one thing became abundantly clear to Emma, and she suspected everyone else – this was not the Killian Jones they had all been hoping for or expecting to see. Emma thought back to everything Mary Margaret had told her about scar tissue and nerve damage, and thought that there was clearly something going on. Jones’ left hand looked stiff and awkward, as though he couldn’t quite bend it. The crowd became nearly silent as it dawned over all of them in unison – they had not truly gotten their star player back after all.


	3. The Fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm sorry for being a day late, I was out of town this weekend and I had to catch up on some work when I got back, so I didn't have a chance to put the finishing touches on this chapter until this afternoon. As always, thanks to those of you who leave reviews, they're wonderful to see.

_Two Weeks Later_

Killian could feel the tension in the crowd as he checked into the game, and he knew the cause of it. Everyone was disappointed in his playing having been under the impression that he would pick up right where he left off. He supposed they all thought that after two seasons off, he would be entirely recovered, but nobody knew the long road to recovery that he had faced. The first year had been marred with surgery after surgery, first trying to mend tendons, and then trying to fix the nerves. The largest problem had been that the way his bones had broken had completely severed the median nerve, and despite surgery to try to fix it, the nerves had not been healing properly. It had been the perfect storm of factors that ensured, in short, that his hand would never fully regain function. He could bend his wrist fine, but he had trouble with his fingers, and very little sensation in his palm. Given these challenges, Killian felt he was not doing all that poorly, and he wished everyone else could see how badly he had been playing the year before.

It was difficult to keep his head when he could feel the crowd holding its breath every time he took a shot, hear the groans when he missed. Coach tried to tell him that given everything, a .238 field goal percentage wasn’t that bad, but Killian felt as though such things were patronizing. He spent all his free time in the gym, practicing his shooting and dribbling. Anything to keep his mind from wandering back to Milah, and to keep him from turning back to a steady diet of beer and rum. After his problematic indulgences last year, Coach and Liam had double-teamed him to make it clear that he would be staying far away from such things in future. So far, Killian had managed to stick to his word, but his recent performance was testing him.

Killian pulled down a defensive rebound and handed the ball off to Merlin, racing down the court. Something brightly coloured caught his eye, but he ignored it as he turned to set up. His defender had lagged behind him though (his speed was one thing that had not deteriorated), and he was wide open for the shot. Merlin, being a prodigiously talented point guard, recognized the opportunity immediately and made the perfect pass for Killian, bouncing it straight under the defender’s outstretched arms. Without hesitating, Killian pulled the ball up, bent his knees, and released, arms, legs, and core extending all at once as he pushed the ball toward the basket. He could hear the crowd suck in a breath, but he watched as the ball soared straight through the net – _whoosh_.

The crowd erupted screaming, and Killian roared in his own happiness, feeling somewhat more like his old self. He allowed himself to look at the color that had caught his eye, and found himself looking at a large British flag, at least five feet across, held by two rather attractive looking women. On the right was a tall brunette, jumping up and down and waving the flag with great enthusiasm. It looked as though she might also be calling his name, though he couldn’t be sure. Next to her was a more reserved woman with curly blonde hair, and a smile that was quite enchanting. She did not jump and bounce as her friend did, but Killian could tell from the way the corners of her lips turned up that she was every bit as excited.

The whole thing struck him as odd and amusing, to the point where he almost forgot to counter back to defense. He tried to push the unusual display to the back of his mind and focus on the game, but every now and then he caught sight of the waving flag. It cheered him in some small way to see it each time, and by the end of the game, he almost wanted to burst out laughing.

“Hey, did you see that flag?” David asked him as they undressed in the locker room.

“He’d have to be blind to miss it,” Robert Gold snorted disapprovingly.

“Those girls were fine though,” Arthur chimed in, practically leering. “I wouldn’t mind having them cheering me on.”

“Really, Arthur, have some decency,” David said, sounding thoroughly shocked. Killian chuckled slightly at his naïveté, and David flashed him a scolding look. “They’re women, all of you, and they deserve our respect.”

“No they don’t,” Robert countered, pity and disgust written all over their face. “Not when they throw themselves at us the way they all do.”

“That is too far,” Killian rebuffed, his ears burning in his irritation. “All women deserve our respect, no matter how exuberant their attentions to us.”

“I expect they’re the only ones who will love you now, those dirty little –“

“I strongly suggest that you don’t finish that sentence,” Killian growled, and David puffed up behind him. Both of them had been spoiling for a fight with Robert Gold since an incident over the summer. Gold merely shrugged and left the locker room, leaving the others to fume at him in his absence.

“Ignore him, Killian,” David said, patting his teammate on the shoulder. “There are plenty out there who will swoon and fall at your feet.”

“You’ve still got your looks, after all,” Arthur added.

“I don’t give a damn about women at the moment,” Killian said through gritted teeth. “Right now, all I care about is getting back to my old form and getting us that national title.”

“I think you’ve got your priorities wrong,” Arthur teased, and David chuckled lightly.

“A championship ring will bring even more women than you could get through, Arthur,” Killian answered, just as good-naturedly.

“Maybe, but I would like to find out myself, all the same,” Arthur quipped, and the other two men laughed.

“Really, though,” David added, sobering up, “what do you make of the girls with the flag?”

“I don’t know,” Killian answered honestly. “It seems odd and a bit silly, but there’s also something heartening in it too.”

“You did play your best game yet this season,” Arthur added, and David nodded in agreement.

“There’s still a long way to go yet,” Killian replied, struggling a bit with his shoelaces.

“You’ll get there in the end though,” David encouraged. “You’ll see.”

As Killian drove himself back to his apartment, he couldn’t help but think about the two girls who had been holding the flag. It was ridiculous and odd, and it brought to mind crazy fans who stalked celebrities. At the same time, he couldn’t help a gut feeling that that wasn’t the case with these two. He couldn’t explain it, but something about them, about the blonde woman in particular, made him think that they had done it for a different reason. And he had to admit, it gave him a slightly warm feeling, knowing that someone was rooting for him. Seeing that flag wave, even when he missed a shot, it felt like they believed in him.


	4. The Handshake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I’m sorry, I’m a day late again. I broke my thumb last night and so I couldn’t finish editing until some of the pain wore off a bit. BUT I really like this chapter, and I hope you all do too, I think it’s a fun one with maybe a little bit of a twist you didn’t expect. I'll be skipping next week because it's my exams, so we'll return on May 8th! With that said, I’ll leave you all to your reading! Reviews are so much appreciated, and as always, a huge shout out to @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 for the beautiful banner that you can see if you check it out on tumblr.

_Two Months Later_

Snow was falling thick around Emma as she walked down the street, her boots sinking into little drifts as flakes stuck to her hair and eyelashes. She had been walking for almost half an hour when a car pulled up next to her. Instinctively, she stepped farther away, but the window rolled down and when she looked inside, she saw a familiar face.

“Hop in,” he said with an inviting smile.

Emma hesitated, thinking. He wasn’t a complete stranger, but she didn’t know him very well either. However it was cold out and there was still another mile to get to the stadium.

“Thanks, Neal,” she answered as she opened the door and slipped into the passenger seat.

“Why were you walking?” Neal asked, glancing at her quickly as he put the car back into drive.

“There was too much ice in my complex,” Emma explained, pulling her beanie and gloves off, “I couldn’t get my car out. But I knew there wouldn’t be many people here today, so I just decided to walk.”

“You could have asked for a ride,” he replied, flashing her a charming smile.

“I don’t have your number,” she said, trying to sneak a peak at him without him noticing. Neal was handsome, though perhaps not conventionally so. His hair was thinning and he looked like he was experimenting with some odd facial hair, but his eyes were kind and his laugh was infectious.

“Perhaps we should fix that,” Neal grinned, and Emma thought she even caught a quick wink. “Man, I hate driving in the snow, though.”

“Guess you should probably move somewhere warm and sunny,” Emma answered, laughing lightly. “Maybe Tallahassee.”

“Only if you promise to come visit me there,” he said, turning to look at Emma intensely for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush.

“How many ushers cancelled today?” Emma asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Almost all of them,” Neal answered as he pulled into the parking lot, seemingly unfazed by Emma’s shift in conversation. “I think we have about 18 people showing up, which should be just barely enough to scrape by.”

“We should adjust the line up process today so that we don’t leave people waiting outside in the snow,” Emma suggested. “No one is going to come today, so there’s no worry that we’re going to go over our allotment, might as well just let the walk up line in.”

“Yeah, sure,” Neal answered, stiffening almost imperceptibly as he parked the car.

Emma looked up and saw one of the other ushers, a woman named Tamara, staring at them. She was rather haughty and had been giving Emma death stares for most of the season. Emma had no idea what she had done to earn Tamara’s dislike, but it was rapidly getting on her nerves.

“You have the credentials, right?” Emma said, turning back to Neal. “Can I have mine now? I’ll go inside and start setting up.”

“Okay,” Neal replied, pulling a bundle of credentials from his back pocket and handing one to Emma. “Thanks.”

Emma hung the credential around her neck and pulled her beanie back on as she walked with purpose to the entrance to the stadium, ignoring Tamara’s glare as she went. The security guards didn’t even ask her to take her coat off as she went through the metal detector, they knew her too well by this time. As one of the more reliable ushers, Emma was often asked to handle more difficult tasks, and as a result, generally had to run in and out of the stadium, passing through the detectors three or four times each game.

She found her customary place and stripped her jacket off, tossing it on the floor to mark her spot as reserved. After she was sure she had secured space for herself and a few of the other, friendly ushers, Emma ducked under the bleachers where there equipment was stored, and felt around the shelf above her head for the roll of caution tape and the roll of painters tape. She made her way over to their section and began carefully taping off the section in their usual pattern.

“Hey Emma, can you tape off the front row too?” Neal called out to her, striding over with purpose as he secured the earpiece that allowed him to communicate with the other managers.

“Why, are we giving the front row away?” she asked, a hint of irritation coloring her voice.

“Not exactly. We’re letting the ushers have front row in the undergrad section today,” he answered. “The ones who showed up earned a bit of a treat today, don’t you think?”

Emma grinned as she lay down the extra bit of tape. Front row in the undergraduate section may not seem like much, but it was very exciting. After every game, the team would run along the section, high fiving the students who offered their hands. It was the last piece of the puzzle when it came to feeling like you were really a part of the team – the coveted sixth man. Emma hadn’t realized how much she wanted to experience that at least once until that very moment, when her face felt it might split from the excited smile that graced it.

The two hours of ushering seemed to fly by, Emma was so excited for the game to start (and finish). It was a good game, and a little more excited than everyone had expected, to be sure. They were playing one of the worse teams in their league, but they were also missing Arthur Kardos thanks to a temper tantrum he had thrown in their previous game. Killian played well, a new season high in points scored, and Emma faithfully held the flag for him, even though Ruby hadn’t been able to make it through the snow. To Emma’s surprise, when Killian checked back into the game during the second half, Neal turned up at her side, taking the end of the flag that Ruby usually held. Emma smiled, feeling her heart beat erratically, and tried not to look over at where Tamara stood sulkily staring at them, her eyes throwing daggers at Emma.

 _What a bitch_ , Emma thought, tossing her hair over her shoulder and trying to turn her attention back to the court. It was so juvenile to shoot death glares at any woman who deigned to speak to a guy you liked.

With forty seconds left in the game, Killian returned to the bench, clearly done for the day, and Neal dropped his end of the flag, returning to his spot by Tamara after giving Emma a weird smile. She shrugged and joined the crowd chanting “Our House” and stomping on the bleachers, too exhilarated to really care about whatever Neal was doing. The final buzzer sounded, and Emma began to hop up and down lightly, her excitement spilling forth into movement.

The players began to jog over to the undergraduate section, and all the students held their hands out, Emma included. David Nolan was the first to tap her hand, a victorious grin plastered on his face. Merlin passed next, and then Jefferson Doran. Killian had set off toward the crowd slightly later than the others, as he had been engaged in conversation with the coach, and he directed himself a little bit father down the line than where the others had started, and then something very strange happened.

Killian looked up, and seemed to make eye contact with Emma, and as he did so, he redirected his steps toward her. As their palms met, his shockingly blue eyes fixed on her emerald ones, and he flashed her a winning smile. Time seemed suspended as their eyes locked on each other, and Emma felt as though she was breathing faster and slower at the same time.

And Killian’s fingertips let go of Emma’s, and the moment was over. Killian kept moving down the line, and Emma stayed to greet the remaining players, but something inside her had shifted slightly. She couldn’t get those stark blue eyes out of her mind.

As she left the stadium a few minutes later, Emma couldn’t decide what part of the day to focus on. The excitement of being a part of the high five line was almost too much, she was positively shaking. She hadn’t realized how badly she had wanted that experience. And then that moment with Killian Jones, she wanted to believe it had actually happened, but as she kept walking through the snow, she told herself that it was all in her head. Finally, she thought about her interactions with Neal that day, and how he had made her heart pound excitedly. Yes, it was Neal she should focus on, an actual attainable guy, who she was quite sure liked her, and who she just might like too.


	5. The Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and happy Monday! Thanks for bearing with me through finals and waiting the extra week for this chapter, which I sincerely hope is worth it. I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it. That's all I've got for you - see you next week! Oh, and don't forget to leave reviews, 'cause I love 'em!

**Two Weeks Later**

“Come on, Emma, you have to go out with me!” Ruby pleaded over the phone, but Emma shook her head.

“No, I told you, I want a nice, quiet night in, wearing sweats, drinking a beer, watching a good movie,” she answered, tugging her leggings off as she spoke.

“Please, Emma!” Ruby continued, and Emma felt annoyance spark in her veins.

“No, every time I go out with you,” she explained, “you end up completely plastered, and I have to take care of you.”

“I promise it won’t happen tonight,” Ruby bargained, making Emma roll her eyes at the receiver. “I need a wingwoman, Emma, please.”

“If you can convince Mary Margaret to come with us, I’ll go,” Emma conceded after a moment. If Mary Margaret were there, at least Emma wouldn’t have to be the responsible one, her friend took that mantle on willingly and spectacularly. No one did responsible like Mary Margaret.

“Fine, I’ll call you right back,” Ruby huffed, hanging up the phone.

Emma felt safe in thinking that Mary Margaret would not be inclined to participate in a night of drinking and dancing at the city’s least reputable bar. She peeled her sweater off and donned a bathrobe, thinking she might put some pasta on to cook while she showered. It had not been a very good day, far too many frustrations in the lab for her liking, and Emma desperately wanted to wash it off in a steaming hot shower. Her phone buzzed, and Emma jumped slightly, not expecting the sudden noise.

“Mary Margaret is in!” Ruby cheered triumphantly, not even waiting for Emma to speak first.

“No way,” Emma contradicted. “You can’t trick me into meeting up with you and then say Mary Margaret just backed out last minute or something.”

“I’m not trying to trick you, Emma, I swear,” Ruby sighed, and Emma could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Mary Margaret said she needed a break from studying, and she’d be happy to go out for a drink with us.”

“Fine,” Emma huffed. “I’ll be at your place in twenty minutes, but you better have a drink ready for me when I get there.”

“Yes!” Ruby exclaimed, and once again, she hung up the phone suddenly.

With a sigh, Emma removed her robe, and pulled her leggings back on. She stood in front of her closet for a moment, trying to decide what to wear, before selecting a semi sheer red top that she knew Ruby would approve of. She grabbed her keys and left the house, climbing into her little yellow bug, and made her way to Ruby’s apartment.

When she arrived, she found Ruby had already begun drinking, unsurprisingly. More shocking, however, was the fact that Mary Margaret had apparently been joining her. In their many years of friendship, Emma had rarely seen Mary Margaret drink, and most of those occasions had been during school breaks, when the studying to be done was at a bare minimum. Never, however, had she seen Mary Margaret happily gulping down a beer on a Wednesday night.

Together, they had another two rounds before they finally set off for the bar, Emma feeling just a little bit tipsy. She was surprised at the lack of a line to get in, but was nonetheless pleased, as it was still quite cold out. Once they were inside, Emma made a beeline for the bar, needing another drink (or two) to really get comfortable. Unlike Ruby, she was not much of a club person – too many people much too close to her. She downed her first rum and coke quickly, letting the warm tingle it brought spread to her fingers and toes. The second she sipped at a much more relaxed pace, joining in with Ruby and Mary Margaret as they pulled her onto the dance floor.

It took roughly ten minutes before Ruby got bored of dancing with Emma and Mary Margaret and found herself a more interesting partner. Barely two minutes later, Mary Margaret said something about a dartboard – Emma couldn’t hear over the sound of the music blaring – and slipped away through the crowd before Emma could stop her. Emma looked around her, trying to find Ruby, but she and her new friend had disappeared, undoubtedly to some dark corner where they could make out undisturbed. She felt panic rising inside her like bile, and she struggled to suppress it. She hated being alone, being abandoned, and she had to remind herself that that wasn’t what this was, but it couldn’t stop her heart from pounding painfully in her chest. As it thumped away at her ribs like it was trying to break free, Emma began pushing her way through the crowd, determined to try to find her friends.

As the minutes ticked on with no sign of either Ruby or Mary Margaret, Emma’s panic began to mount. She hardly noticed where she was walking, until she began to wonder at the increased difficulty she was having seeing over the crowd of people around her. She was taller than average, though still not a giant, and it was usually enough that she could see, especially if she stood on her toes, but as she looked around, not even a perfect pointe would have helped her. At that realization, Emma looked more closely at the people surrounding her, and she inhaled sharply as she recognized the faces. There was Arthur Kardos, smoothly chatting up some coed who would go home with him if he gave her half a chance. Merlin had a crowd of freshmen (judging by their baby faces) surrounding him, and Lancelot was laughing boisterously with some friends. Robert Gold was flitting from girl to girl, looking for one who would demonstrate the same sort of willingness Kardos’ companion was showing. And there, at the bar, Killian Jones sat with his co-captain, David Nolan, throwing back drinks and laughing at whatever story David was telling. She was struck once more by how blue Jones’ eyes seemed to be, even from a distance. It was no wonder she couldn’t see anything, the whole team seemed to be gathered in this little corner she had wandered into. Emma took a step back, intending to extricate herself from the team huddle before anyone noticed her, but her back hit another body, and a hand immediately placed itself around her arm.

“Hey, Jones, your admirer seems to have found you,” Robert Gold hissed, loud enough to get the attention of everyone in the vicinity, and the sneer on his face clearly said that he was hoping for severe mockery at the very least.

Emma tried to pull her arm away, fully prepared to run, but Gold dug his fingers in and pulled her along with him as he moved towards Jones, like she was a trespasser being apprehended.

“Leave her be,” Killian commanded, and Gold spitefully released Emma’s arm.

Despite his clear desire to do so, it seemed that Robert Gold didn’t dare disobey his captain, even off the court. Idly, Emma wondered what Jones had done to earn that level of respect from his teammates.

“A drink for the lady?” Killian said, and Emma wasn’t entirely sure if he was addressing her or the bartender. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively though after another moment of silence, and Emma took the hint.

“It’s okay, you really don’t have to,” she answered, moving to leave again, but his blue eyes locked on her, and Emma found herself unable to move.

“Really, love, it’s the least I can do for such an ardent fan,” he insisted, flagging down the bartender.

“Rum and coke,” Emma instructed him, a bit shyly. This was not what she had intended for her night at all. “I didn’t mean to intrude on you,” she blurted out, feeling an overwhelming need to explain herself. “I wasn’t… I didn’t even realize you were here… I was trying to find my friends…”

It sounded flimsy as she said it, and he raised an eyebrow in question, but perhaps the panicked look on her face told him not to press the issue.

“Don’t pay any attention to Gold, he’s just upset he hasn’t got any groupies of his own,” he teased.

“I’m not a groupie,” Emma answered defensively.

She regretted the words the moment she had said them, as a tense silence filled the air between them. David Nolan flashed Killian a look Emma couldn’t quite read as he stood and vacated the bar stool he had been occupying.

“Can I ask you something?” Killian said, as Emma picked up her drink.

“You can ask, but it doesn’t mean I’ll answer,” she replied, her reflex to play her cards close to her chest kicking in.

“Why the flag?” he asked, and he lowered his voice, almost as though it was a secret.

“Oh,” Emma sighed, a flush rising on her cheeks. “I don’t know, I suppose we just… wanted you to feel at home, and make sure you knew you had people who were cheering for you.”

“That’s very kind,” he replied, ducking his face down as his right hand moved to scratch at the skin just behind his ear.

He was blushing, from his cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears, and Emma had to admit she found the sight quite endearing. Killian Jones, star shooting guard, flushing because a girl had done something nice for him, it was something quite special. In that moment, he seemed shy and unsure, and Emma found herself surprised that he had chosen a place that put him in the public eye constantly, where he had to exude bravado.

“So, you’re coming home with me tonight then,” he said, not quite asking, and Emma snorted. _There it is_ , she thought bitterly, as the intriguing guy gave way to the stereotype of a star athlete.

“Not a chance,” she denied, standing from the bar stool, ready to leave.

Killian stood as well, mirroring her, and stepped forward so he was well within her personal space, but not touching. His breath was warm against her skin, and he was so tall that she was forced to look up at him to make eye contact. _God his eyes were blue_.

“We could have fun,” he whispered, and he dipped his head ever so slightly, as though he had been contemplating leaning in for a kiss, “perhaps I’ll make you pancakes…”

From his tone, it was very clear that pancakes did not mean anything remotely close to a meal.

“Really, breakfast food while drunk?” Emma scoffed, entirely unwilling to verbally recognize that his proposal was for something else entirely. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”

“Who said it’d be tonight that I made the pancakes, love?” he quipped, his eyebrows waggling tantalizingly.

“Does that work on a lot of the girls?” Emma answered, rolling her eyes.

It was just so stereotypical – the attractive, talented athlete thinking he could charm his way into any brainless girl’s pants with just a few well-placed innuendos. But Emma wasn’t brainless, and she certainly was not the type to be charmed just by a pretty face and easy manners.

“Undergrads mostly,” he joked, and sarcasm laced his voice.

Even as Emma processed his tone and knew it to be a lie, something within her clicked into place, and her mood snapped to annoyed.

“Do you even know my name?” she challenged, and he seemed taken aback, stepping away from her.

“It’s hardly my fault you haven’t introduced yourself,” he rebuffed, and he crossed his arms, body language clearly indicating that he was ready for a battle of wits.

Emma opened her mouth to reply, even though she couldn’t think of anything to say. She was saved the trouble by a light touch on her arm, and she turned to see Ruby standing behind her, alternately looking from her to Killian with an expression that was half confusion and half excitement.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Ruby said just loud enough to be heard over the music, “but uh, Mary Margaret is having kind of a rough night…”

Emma took this to mean that Mary Margaret was either bent over a toilet or one of the bushes outside, firmly regretting the sheer volume of alcohol she had consumed that night.

“I mean, I can take care of it, don’t worry, I just wanted to let you know before we left so you didn’t panic,” Ruby continued, giving Emma a meaningful look.

“No, it’s okay, we’re done her,” Emma said firmly, finishing the little bit of rum left in her coke and placing it on the bar. “Thanks for the drink.”

Killian looked like he was about to protest, but she looped her arm through Ruby’s and practically dragged her friend away before he could say anything, all the while Ruby was adamantly hissing in Emma’s ear that she could manage Mary Margaret on her own and Emma should go back and “ravage Jones”. But Emma didn’t feel much like ravaging anyone. She felt disappointed after talking to Killian, but she wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she had imagined him as anything other than the stereotypical playboy, but… for a moment it seemed like there might be more, hidden behind a façade. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the image of his blue eyes staring at her. She had little doubt that those blue eyes would find their way into her dreams that night, and probably not in _entirely_ appropriate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, I ~had~ to include a pancakes reference. It just had to be done.


	6. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, so this is probably like, my favourite chapter, honestly I've been waiting to write this one pretty much since I came up with the idea for this story. So I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. As always, don't forget to feed the author with a smattering of reviews, and I'll see you next week! Enjoy!

_Two Weeks Later_

In the month since he had given her a ride to the game, Emma had been unable to get Neal out of her head. Something about him seemed very genuine, and she found herself imagining things she had no business thinking about. She found herself coming up with excuses on game days to see him more – just about any errand that needed running or any issue that needed dealing with, Emma volunteered to handle it. She became their right hand man, rather unintentionally, and it earned the respect of her peers as well, though she might lose it if they discovered the true motive for her dedication. And the way he looked at her sometimes, she thought that he might just feel the same way.

Emma, much to the surprise of the others, was the one who convinced Ruby and Mary Margaret that they should go to the grad student formal. They teased her and asked her why she was so keen on going, but Emma said only that she thought it would be a fun night. She didn’t tell them about the visions of her in a beautiful gown catching Neal’s eye, and him deciding that she was suddenly irresistible, or, well, any other part of the dream that had been plaguing her for the last week and a half.

On the night of the formal, Ruby and Mary Margaret joined Emma at her apartment for pizza and Netflix before they started getting ready for the night. It was far from the ball gown in Emma’s dreams, but they cleaned up pretty good. She had wanted to go for a tight red dress, but Mary Margaret had called it a hooker dress and insisted that formals were for looking beautiful, not hot. Ruby had rolled her eyes at this and shrugged into a strappy, silk black sheath dress that had looked a bit like a trash bag on the hanger, but somehow looked impossibly good on her. Mary Margaret had white frock with silver embroidery and little crystals, which she paired with a pair of practical white ballet flats. Deep in the back of her closet, Emma found a pale pink dress made from some kind of shimmery fabric that made Mary Margaret gasp in delight. She stepped into it and Ruby obligingly zipped it for her. As she walked around, the skirt seemed to float effortlessly around her, and Emma felt a little bit like the fairy princess that she very much was not. It was a bit of a welcome break from her usual tough exterior, even if it did make her feel a touch uncomfortable.

They downed a few shots as they waited for their Uber to arrive, and then the three of them squeezed into the back, giggling happily. The venue was beautiful, lights and balloons and streamers in the school colors lining every wall, and there were already people dancing when they got there. Ruby made a beeline for the bar, all three of them cashing in the first of their drink tickets for another dose of liquid courage.

“So, who are you aiming to take home tonight?” Emma asked Ruby as they gathered around one of the high tables spread about the room.

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Ruby laughed, glancing around the room. “The business school boys are quite fine, but then they’re so full of themselves. Of course there’s always the law school ladies…”

Mary Margaret pretended to be scandalized, as always, by Ruby’s willingness to go home with anyone, though they all knew it was a ruse. Mary Margaret was not nearly as judgmental and conservative as people thought, and she and Emma both knew that Ruby’s promiscuity was the result of her previous trauma. When she was an undergraduate, her long-term boyfriend had been killed in a car accident, and Ruby had blamed herself, though Emma personally thought she couldn’t be less responsible. The loss had crushed her, and she’d been spending the years since avoiding all semblance of romantic attachment.

“I take it you’re still looking for your Prince Charming?” Ruby teased Mary Margaret, who blushed brightly.

“I just don’t see the point in wasting time with anyone who isn’t The One,” Mary Margaret replied.

“But how can you know if they’re The One unless you spend time with them,” Emma challenged lightly.

“I just… I just will,” Mary Margaret answered, puffing up a bit. “When it’s true love, you just know.”

Emma was about to roll her eyes, but something in the corner of the room caught her attention, and she focused on it, only to find Neal walking in, Tamara laughing lightly by his side.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret called, noticing her friend’s lapse in attention.

“Look who it is,” Ruby purred, looking like the cat that caught the canary, “Emma’s true love.”

“I highly doubt that,” Emma countered, “since true love doesn’t really exist and all.”

“Maybe, but I bet he’d be a damn good lay anyway,” Ruby taunted, and it was Emma’s turn to blush.

“I’m not interested,” she lied quickly, but both of her friends scoffed loudly.

“Then why can’t you take your eyes off him?” Ruby said, as if that statement were the end of it, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Oh Emma, you should go talk to him!” Mary Margaret gushed, smiling an earnest, naïve smile.

“He seems a bit preoccupied,” Emma spat out, her eyes flicking over to Tamara.

“I highly doubt he’d mind if you pulled him away from that witch,” Ruby commented, downing the rest of her drink. “Come on, let’s get another, maybe then Emma will feel brave enough to take Neal home.”

They returned to the bar and cashed in a second round of drink tickets, and as they walked back toward the dance floor, Emma saw Tamara and Neal, the former watching her with hawk-like eyes. As soon as Tamara saw Emma look their way, a sickly sweet smile made its way across her face, and she looked up at Neal adoringly, pulling his lips down to meet hers. He responded enthusiastically, his hands on her waist pulling her closer to him, and Tamara’s hands locked at the nape of his neck. For a brief moment, Emma saw Tamara eyes open and meet her own, and she knew immediately that this had been a message for her. _Back off. Not yours._ She read it loud and clear, like a bullet to the gut, and she felt bile welling up in the back of her throat, just as tears started to prick her eyes.

“I’ll be right back,” Emma said, thrusting her drink toward Mary Margaret. She needed to get away, needed air to breathe, space.

“Emma, are you…?” Ruby started, and then her eyes flicked past Emma and she saw the embracing lovebirds. “Son of a bitch!”

She looked ready to go punch one or both of them, but Emma grabbed her arm to stop her.

“It’s fine, Ruby, really, I don’t care,” Emma said, hoping she was lying more convincingly this time than she had before.

“That’s not what your face says,” Ruby challenged, but her eyes had softened a bit, and she looked more like she wanted to hug Emma.

“I just have to pee,” Emma argued, “I broke the seal back at the house. I promise, I’ll be right back.”

Mary Margaret and Ruby both looked skeptical, but they nodded, letting her go. As Emma stumbled toward the doorway, she wasn’t sure if her friends had actually believed her (she doubted it) or if they just knew that she needed a moment to collect herself. It wasn’t the world’s best kept secret that Emma didn’t like breaking down in front of other people, even her best friends. She pushed the heavy door open and stepped out into the cold, February air, gulping down deep breaths. Tears began to fall in earnest, and Emma didn’t try to hold them back, there was no one there to see her as she sobbed.

At least, she thought there was no one there.

After a moment, someone, a distinctly male someone, cleared their throat lightly, and Emma felt them take a few steps closer to where she had collapsed onto the stairs. She tried to take steadying breaths, but it was hard, and the tears seemed determined to come whether she wanted them to or not.

“Are you alright?” the man who had approached her asked, and Emma’s heart stopped when she heard his voice, she would know it anywhere.

Slowly, Emma pulled her hands away from her face and looked up form her lap, finding herself staring into the impossibly blue eyes of Killian Jones.

“Love, are you okay?” he repeated, his voice laced with concern, and Emma almost believed that it was genuine.

“I’m fine,” she answered, trying to pretend that there weren’t tear tracks staining her face.

“You’re not,” he persisted, and he sat down next to her, though she noticed that he was careful to keep a respectful distance.

“If you know everything then why’d you ask?” Emma snapped.

“It’s polite,” Killian said quietly. “Besides, nothing says ‘my world is crumbling’ quite like the words ‘I’m fine’.”

“Why do you care?” she asked, skeptical.

“I suppose I would hate to think that someone had upset the woman who has gone to such lengths to make sure I feel at home and supported,” he replied, avoiding eye contact by looking up at the stars peppering the sky.

“You remember that,” she stated, somewhat surprised.

“I wasn’t the one downing rum like a bloody pirate,” Killian responded with a light chuckle.

“What are you even doing out here?” Emma challenged, changing the topic aggressively.

“Hiding,” he answered simply, and Emma narrowed her eyes at him.

“From what? Stalker groupie?” she hissed, and her tone sounded accusatory even to her own ears.

“Ah, no,” Killian squirmed, his hand reflexively moving to scratch behind his ear. “There’s a lot of alcohol in there.”

“So?”

“So, as a borderline alcoholic, it is unwise for me to be in… tempting scenarios,” he continued, his fingers scratching a little more intensely, and Emma wouldn’t have been surprised if he drew blood.

“But you were at the bar,” Emma burst out insensitively before she could stop herself.

“Aye, but David was there with me,” Killian explained. “It’s easier to stick to soda when you have an understanding friend with you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Emma began, but she trailed off, not really knowing what else she could say.

“Most people don’t,” he remarked, in an oddly detached way. “It’s a story that’s been carefully kept secret. Not… not to deceive anyone. Coach just wanted to protect me. It was a difficult time, he didn’t want anyone making it any more difficult.”

Emma stayed quiet, not knowing what she could say to that. She believed him, that it wasn’t meant to deceive anyone. It seemed important to him that she knew that, and for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, it was important to her too. She could feel his eyes burning through her skull as she considered what to say next.

“There’s this guy,” she started, feeling silly as she went on. “I thought he liked me, but then, it’s so trivial in comparison, and he’s with this girl, and it wouldn’t be so bad if it were someone else, but this girl is just _such_ a _bitch_ …”

“You really like this guy?” Killian asked, and perhaps if she had been less focused on Neal, she wouldn’t have missed the disappointment that flashed across his features.

“No, I mean, yeah, I guess a little,” Emma sighed, struggling to figure out her emotions. “It just would have been nice to be wanted, to have someone again.”

“May I give you a hug?” he inquired, one eyebrow raised, his arms already held out wide.

Emma considered the offer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to touch her, it was just that she didn’t really do hugs, never really had. And yet, she almost wanted to. She needed some kind of sign.

“On one condition,” she answered, and his eyebrow cocked even more. “Guess my name.”

It was an impossible task, they both knew it. It was her own self-sabotaging way, setting him a task he could never accomplish so that when he failed it would be the sign she needed to not do what she wanted, to avoid being brave. Killian visibly balked when she said it, but a second later, his face had turned into a mask of determination, and he studied her face carefully, leaning in slightly so he could see every detail.

“Emma,” he said, somewhere in between a statement and a question, his voice low, like he was surprised that that was the name that had bubbled to the surface.

Something inside Emma warmed considerably, and she felt as though a ball of tension had released itself. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, and she wound her arms around his waist. It took him a second to respond, but then he wrapped his arms around her, the muscles tightening against her skin. It was easily the most comfortable hug she’d ever had, and they both seemed content to stay that way. After a few minutes, Killian rested his chin on the top of Emma’s head, and she let out a long breath that she hadn’t realized she had been holding in. More minutes passed, and still neither of them moved, entirely content, until Emma felt a slightly different type of tension pull at her insides. Doing her best to suppress her desires, Emma pushed away from Killian and stood, holding her hand out to him.

“Come on, I’ll be your David tonight,” she said, and Killian took her hand with a strangely affected look on his face, as though nobody had ever said anything more perfect.


	7. The Big Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, I know I'm a week late with this chapter, there's just been a lot going on. I don't think I'll be able to post this week's chapter until Thursday or Friday, because I'm moving this week, so I won't have a lot of time. But it will be up sometime this week and it will be the last chapter of this story! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I think it's a pretty good one. Don't forget to leave a review to keep your writer happy!

K: I think I’m going to be sick…

E: Nervous?

K: You have no idea, love

E: You’re going to be great Killian

   I know you can do this

K: What if I tank?

E: You won’t

K: And if you’re wrong?

E: I’m not

   But on the off chance that I am, remember that you have people who care about you, and even the worst performance in the world can’t change that

K: Just make sure you bring the flag tonight

   Don’t forget

   I may need the encouragement

E: I’ll be right under the basket with it, don’t worry

K: I’ll be watching for you

E: J

K: Right, time to go

E: Good luck, Killian, you’ll be great

 

Killian read the last text message and smiled, staring at it for a few moments before finally clicking the screen off, and turning to his locker. He had been the first to arrive at the stadium, and he had been sitting in the locker room since, trying to quell the bile that had been threatening to rise. He was somewhat ashamed to admit that his nerves were getting the better of him, and he found it absolutely impossible to imagine playing through it.

“You ready?” David’s voice broke him out of his reverie, and Killian looked up at his teammate, who was beaming.

“You look a little green there, Jones,” Lancelot commented, giving Killian a concerned look. “You gonna be alright?”

“He’s just nervous that he’s gonna break something and cost us the game again, isn’t that right?” Gold sneered.

Killian growled in response and David stepped forward, looking like he was ready to punch Gold’s lights out. Before either of them could act, however, Coach stepped into the locker room, raising his eyebrows in surprise and disapproval when he saw that none of them had dressed yet.

“Uniforms on, quickly,” he commanded, and the players all jumped to obey him. “This is a big game for us, it’s the chance we need to prove to everyone that we belong in the NCAA tournament, that we can win the dance. Don’t worry about the other team, tonight is about us, it’s about everyone in this room playing to their full potential, it’s about functioning together seamlessly to reach new heights. We have been training hard for this, and all of you are here because you are the most talented players this country has to offer. If everyone here plays the way I know you can, there is no reason that we can’t win this game, and go on to win the championship. Now get out on the court and let the fans get you ready to go!”

Several of the guys bounced up, jogging through the doors and out towards the court, and Killian had to keep himself from sprinting out, hoping that Emma would be there watching him warm up, but he knew it was a silly idea, she would be working still.

He stepped onto the wood of the court and felt some of his nerves leave his body as he took refuge in the familiar squeak of his shoes on the wood. He picked up a ball and rolled it through his hands, savoring the feel of the leather against his skin and letting it relax him. Carefully, he tensed his shoulders and then consciously relaxed them, allowing the tightness to leave his body.

 _I can do this_ , he told himself, _I’m ready_.

He looked up and saw Emma standing in the corner, hands clutching her grey jacket, and she smiled briefly at him, and then turned to continue working. Killian couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he stepped up to the arc, brought the ball up to eye level, and shot, the ball sounding a perfect _swoosh_ as it passed through the net. He moved around the court, taking shot after shot, watching each of them sail through the basket.

After several minutes, Coach signaled to them, and it was time to get going. They threw their balls to the assistants to be put away, and filed to their end of the court to line up for the national anthem. Killian stood there as it played, feeling somewhat ambivalent. As always, hearing the American anthem made him miss home. But the feeling faded as soon as the music stopped, and they team filed over to the bench, where the starters pulled their warm ups off, and the others lined a path for them.

As usual, the starting team was announced first, but Killian didn’t hear it, his brain barely processing the chorus of jeers that accompanied them. Suddenly, Merlin was running forward, looking a little bit green, but Killian hadn’t heard him being announced, hadn’t heard anything. It was as though he had gone suddenly deaf. He wondered if nerves could make you lose your hearing. Lancelot ran forward next, followed by Kardos, and still Killian heard nothing. David hopped up, and Killian wondered how he would know it was his time if he could not hear the announcer’s voice, and he tried to count it out in his head, but he had never listened that carefully to the words.

And then he heard one thing, as clear as if it were coming from right next to him. Killian heard Emma’s voice, ringing true, as she called his name out.

“-ian Jones!” he heard the end of the announcer calling his name as sound faded back into being for him, and Killian pushed himself up, running through the tunnel of his teammates and jumping up to bump chests with David at the end.

Killian saw Emma and her friend, Ruby, waving the flag – _his flag­ –_ enthusiastically, and he smiled, ready to play. This was his moment, and Emma believed in him.

He was unstoppable, every time his hands met the ball, it was like sparks flew, lighting up the stadium, and he felt confidence surging through him as he listened for the _swoosh_ every time he shot. And he heard it, almost every time. He looked, just a quick glance, for the flag before he shot, and the sight of it bolstered him. By half, he already had 21 points, and his shooting percentage for the night was close to 75% - it would be a career high for him if the night continued on that way.

In the second half, the defense tried to shut him down more effectively, adjusting their strategy to his skill, but it made little difference. Killian found the holes in their defense, and when he couldn’t take the shot himself, he set up his teammates for it perfectly. They were blowing ahead of their opponent, increasing the lead to 5… 10… 15 points. And still, Killian hungered for more.

With six minutes left in the game, David fouled out, surprising everyone. Nolan was usually calm and collected, rarely letting his temper get the best of him, but one of the players on the other team – James Spencer – had been intentionally trying to rile him up all night, and it had worked. With David out, Coach had to turn to their secondary small forward, a freshman named Jefferson Doran who had played very limited minutes during the season. Killian groaned inwardly. Jefferson was a decent player, but he was inexperienced, and they had all known when he joined the team that he wouldn’t be a major contributor until later in his stay at the university. This would be a dangerous six minutes.

Slowly, possession by possession, the Tar Heels closed the gap, and Killian’s skin began to crawl as he felt the pressure to score. His shots became somewhat more erratic as he tried to keep the lead, and he wanted to tear himself apart with every missed shot.

22 seconds left and Killian missed the rebound, allowing Spencer to sink the ball into the net and take the lead by one. He wanted to curse, wanted to punch someone, wanted to scream as anger boiled inside of him. He should have gotten it, if he’d had two hands…

17 seconds. He shook the thought away as he raced down the court, his guard staying carefully in front of him.

13 seconds. Jefferson was wide open, they were leaving him to double-team Killian, wanting to make extra sure he would not even get the pass.

11 seconds. Arthur passed to Merlin, who faked, but he didn’t have a shot and passed to Jefferson instead.

8 seconds. Jefferson looked inside to Lancelot, but there was nothing there, so he bent his knees and launched the ball toward the basket…

5 seconds. The ball hit the rim and bounced high in the air, arcing toward the 3 point line.

3 seconds. Killian jumped up and the skin of his fingers met leather as his hands grabbed the ball, snatching it away from his two guards and holding it tight to his body as his feet touched down on the wood court again.

2 seconds. Dribble forward, step back, bend knees, he performed the motions mechanically, knowing them better than he knew anything else. His eyes looked for Emma and focused on her for half a heartbeat before they fixed on the basket.

1 second. Killian launched the ball toward the basket, arms and legs extending as one, and he heard the entire stadium hold its breath as he closed his eyes.

0 seconds. BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

_Swoosh._

Sound erupted around him as the stadium went crazy, and Killian collapsed to his knees, a primal roar spilling forth from his lips. He felt bodies pressing him down as his teammates leapt on top of him, their arms enveloping him in what felt like a hug from an octopus. He tried to extract himself from their pile as he searched for one voice, one face, amongst all the others, but he kept getting pulled away. They shook hands with the other team and hugged each other some more, and then they began to trot over to the undergraduate section, where eager fans were holding their hands out for high fives.

As Killian made his way over, he decided to take a last minute detour, and he pushed through security to where the graduate students stood, his eyes fixed on Emma. She hadn’t realized what he was doing yet, she was hugging Ruby, excitedly swaying with her friend. When Killian was just a few steps away, they released each other and Emma turned, just in time for Killian to wraps his arms around her waist and lift her into the air. For a moment, she seemed to stiffen, but then her eyes focused on him and she relaxed, her arms winding around his neck tightly.

Without thinking, Killian pressed his lips to hers, his hands tightening around he as he tried to press her closer to him. It was a split second before she was kissing him back, one hand tangling in his hair. It took a moment for Killian to remember where they were and what had happened, and then he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers as he tried to catch his breath. Emma smiled at him, soft and secret, and smile that he knew was reserved only for him, never to be used on anyone else, and he tried to preserve the memory of it so he might never forget.

With a smile in return, Killian pulled away in earnest and made his way toward the undergraduate section, where his team was enjoying their victory in the form of admiration from fellow students.

Nothing else mattered, Killian thought as he high fived his way down the line, because he had kissed Emma Swan and she had kissed him back.


	8. The Draft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, the final installment of this particular story. I hope you all have enjoyed this as much as I have, and I'm sad to be parting with this 'verse. But as they say, all good things must come to an end. Please leave a review if you feel so inclined, as they are most wonderful to read.

_**Three Months Later**  _

Emma flopped down onto the hotel bed, not caring in the slightest that she was wrinkling her dress and messing up her hair. She felt grumpy and irritable, very much not wanting to be there, but Killian had practically begged her, so she had relented. But now she was stuck there in that fancy hotel, in her fancy dress, waiting while Killian primped and preened in front of the bathroom mirror until he was appropriately fancy. And it was all for something that was going to change her life, and not exactly in a way she wanted. She huffed loudly, her impatience and annoyance unable to stay contained within her.

“Swan, are you alright?” Killian’s voice floated out from the bathroom.

“Fine,” she sighed, trying to hide the discontent in her voice.

“Love,” he said, his head appearing around the corner, followed soon after by the rest of his body, “I know when you’re upset. Please tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I said nothing, Killian,” Emma snapped, and she new that only gave her away further.

“Emma, don’t shut me out,” he said, stepping out of the bathroom and walking over to the bed, sitting down next to her and rubbing his hand along her thigh soothingly.

She didn’t answer, but Killian continued to gaze at her as though she were precious, like he wanted desperately to know her thoughts.

“Is it – are you worried about meeting Liam?” he asked, hesitant.

“No, I mean, a little, he’s your brother and you look up to him, but not really,” Emma began, and she kept her eyes locked on the ceiling as she spoke. “But there’s not much pressure when you know it’s not long term, so it doesn’t really matter what he thinks of me. I just… I don’t know why you want me to come to this thing. I mean I know we’ve only been dating for a couple months, but you didn’t have to bring me all the way here just to break up with me.”

“You think I –“

“Don’t get me wrong, I understand it all, you have an amazing opportunity, and I don’t expect you to give it up for me, it’s just that this is a lot Killian, a lot of effort just to say that we’re over, you could have done this on your own,” Emma babbled, unable to stop talking now that she had started.

“Emma, love, slow down,” Killian said, his hand moving to brush away a tear that had slipped out from her eyes. “What do you mean breaking up?”

“Well it’s obvious, isn’t it?” she replied, turning her head to look at him. “You’re going to get drafted tonight to play in the NBA, and no matter which team you go to, I won’t be able to go with you. I still have to finish medical school, I can’t just pick up and leave now, I mean, I’m not just going to be some trophy wife or something, I want to actually have my own career and goals and life.”

“You think I would stop you from doing any of that?” Killian asked, looking almost hurt.

“No, I don’t, I think you want me to have those things too,” Emma answered, smiling slightly. She knew Killian only wanted her to have everything she ever dreamed of. “I know you would never ask me to drop everything and follow you, but those are the two choices aren’t they? Either we go our separate ways, or I follow you wherever you go.”

“Emma, it doesn’t have to be like that,” he insisted, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “We can figure it out. Who knows, I may not be that far away, I could be in New York or Washington, or Charlotte. We would have time together, whenever I’m not traveling, we can work it out.”

“Killian…” she said, her voice betraying her skepticism.

“No Emma, listen to me, we can make it work,” he pleaded, close to tears. “We have to try, Swan, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I _need_ you. I can’t give you up.”

“Killian, what happens if you get traded? You won’t always have control over where you play, and I can’t just pick up and move every year…” she argued.

“Two years, Emma, just give me two years. After that, I will follow you to the ends of the Earth,” he said, squeezing her hands tightly. “I don’t want to be in the NBA forever, I want to do more with my life, things that really matter. But I just want to know if I can do this.”

“Two years?” She considered his words carefully.

“At most. If I get hurt, or if I get sent down, or if it doesn’t work out for any reason, I’ll stop, I swear it, Emma,” Killian said, his blue eyes fixed on hers. “You mean more to me than basketball ever could.”

“You mean a lot to me too, Killian,” Emma answered, snuggling closer to him.

“So we’re in agreement then?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

“Yeah, we are,” she smiled, and Killian pressed his lips to her forehead and pulling her tight against him.

“Come on then love, it’s time to go meet Liam,” he said, standing and tugging her up with him, though he pulled her right into a hug, as though he couldn’t bear for her to be even an inch away from him.

They finally made their way out of the hotel room, and down to the lobby, where Emma immediately picked out Liam. There was no way this man could be anything but Killian’s brother, they looked too similar. Of course, Liam’s hair was lighter and curlier than Killian’s, his eyes were a little more grey, but still vibrant. Otherwise, they looked so alike, Emma had spotted him in an instant. Killian practically ran to embrace his brother – Emma knew it had been over a year since they had last seen each other in person.

“You must be Emma,” Liam said, holding out a hand to her. His voice was slightly deeper, almost imperceptibly so.

“It’s great to meet you,” Emma replied, shaking his hand with a smile. “Killian talks about you all the time.”

“Nothing embarrassing I hope?” Liam raised an eyebrow in an expression that was very familiar from her time with Killian.

“Oh no, there were plenty of childhood stories, and maybe even a picture or two,” Emma quipped, and Liam shook his head at his brother, who was anxiously scratching behind his ear.

“Well I suppose I’ll just have to repay the favor,” Liam answered, a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh look, I think our car is here,” Killian said, his cheeks turning pink as he waved in the direction of the door, where a sleek black town car was idling, a driver standing outside, leaning on the door while he smoked a cigarette.

Killian placed his hand at the small of Emma’s back as they walked toward the car, and that little touch was all she needed to reassure her as they left that things would be okay. He kept these small gestures going throughout the night – a hand on her knee, opening the door, offering his hand to guide her on the stairs. None of it was necessary, both of them knew, but the actions were appreciated all the same, making Emma feel more secure in their relationship. She shied away from the cameras somewhat, always wary of being in the public eye, but the way Killian’s face lit up when he looked at her made her forget anyone else was even there more often than not.

They took their seats, with Killian between Emma and Liam, and the waiting game began. There was so much unnecessary ceremony and trivia, and Emma began to grow impatient and anxious for everything to start. Her anxiety only grew as the first few picks were announced, and players from other teams made their way across the stage. And then…

The commissioner walked out onto the stage once more, as the clock on the big screen ticked down. They still had two and half minutes to make the next pick, but it looks as though it had been locked in early. A hush fell over the crowd as they waited for the commissioner to speak.

“With the fifth pick in the NBA Draft,” he announced, voice booming through the arena, “the Charlotte Hornets select Killian Jones, of Leicester, England and Duke University!”

The crowd erupted with noise, and Killian’s face split into a smile wider than Emma had seen before. He immediately reached for her, pulling her into a tight hug and burying his face in her neck for just a moment, before he released her. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and then reached for Liam, who hugged him and thumped him sharply on the back. As Killian turned to walk toward the stage, a hat was thrust into his hands, and he placed it carefully on his head, the teal and purple bringing out the blue of his eyes. He flashed one more smile back at Emma and Killian before he walked across the stage, shaking hands with the commissioner and posing to have his picture taken.

It was a while before he made his way back to them, having been stopped for photo ops and interviews along the way. When he finally sat back down, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off Emma, either holding hers or resting his hand on her knee, or wrapping his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer. After a few moments, he leaned in closer to her, his nose tickling her cheek as he whispered in her ear.

“I love you,” he said, and Emma smiled as her heart warmed.

“I love you too, Killian.”


End file.
